


A World Full of Shadows

by orphan_account



Category: Black Sails, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Accidental Love Confessions, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Alternative Universe - Black Sails, Angry Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempt at Humor, Blood and Violence, Boats and Ships, Bottom Harry, Bottom Louis, But also, Character Death, Desk Sex, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, I promise, Love Confessions, M/M, Old Friends, Pining, Pining Louis, Pirates, Prostitution, Rimming, Scheming, Swearing, Top Harry, Top Louis, Violence, but its probably not funny, but only bc of the alcohol, hah what a tag, i just couldnt help myself, i really suck at tags, if theres anything else please please let me know, like an excessive amount of swearing, mentions of puking for my fellow emetophobes out there, minor max/eleanor, terrible flirting on louis behalf, they switch, this is a pirate au there will be fighting and blood and death, you don't need to have seen the show to read this, zayn seems like hes gonna be horrible but hes not i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-10 04:17:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18931123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When Harry Styles crashes back into Louis' life after a year apart, he knows chaos is about to ensue. As they embark together on their quest for revenge against the most well known pirate hunter of all time, old feelings come creeping back and Louis must fight to control them.There's also the small matter of fact that the last time he saw Harry he abandoned him on an uninhabited island and left him for dead. Whoops?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hiii! Wow I can't believe I'm finally posting this it's been sitting in my wips for almost two years now. I really hope you guys like it, it's the longest thing I've ever written and I don't have a beta so be warned. 
> 
> As I said in the tags you don't need to have watched Black Sails to read this it's just set in that universe but I implore that you do because it's literally the best show of all time. Title comes from Toby Stephens (aka Captain Flint's) iconic "they paint the world full of shadows..." speech. Seriously even if you don't watch the show go watch it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=os2z1LtSfBM). 
> 
> Now that I've plugged Black Sails enough *coughs* here comes the usual disclaimer: I don't own any of it, fair use, blah blah. You know the drill. 
> 
> Anyway. Enjoy :)

“Sails!”

Inside his cabin Louis sighed, staring resolutely at the map in front of him. And counted to three.

Liam burst into the cabin and Louis smiled to himself. Every time.

“Captain, we’ve sighted a ship.”

“So I heard,” Louis said dryly, finally looking up to meet Liam’s eyes. He took one look Liam’s ashen faced expression and immediately abandoned his map. Whatever was out there was unexpected, that much was infinitely clear.

“Sorry Captain, but I think you’ll want to see this.”

Sensing the severity of the situation Louis got up, skirting his desk and coming to stand beside Liam. He gestured to the door and the two of them exited the cabin. The crew, most of them, were loitering on the deck close enough to Louis to hear every word of his and Liam's exchange. Louis raised one eyebrow, staring them down as one by one they dispersed to do their actual duties.

“She’s flying our banner,” Liam said, eyes flicking out to sea, and resting on the horizon. A ship was just appearing over the line, a tiny speck on the vast clear blue water.

“There’s no one else that could possibly be flying under our banner, Liam,” Louis said, voice confident, sure. There was just no way.

Liam handed him a glass with his usual exasperated expression, yet he managed not to say anything as Louis looked out towards the ship, squinting hard through the glass to try and get a better look at it. He frowned, silently handing the glass back to Liam.

“What the fuck? Why’s she flying our banner, Liam?”

Liam stared at him, expression changing to one of barely concealed panic, mouth drawn tight, eyebrows pinched almost painfully as though he was squinting against the glare of the sun.

“I’m not sure, Captain, but I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.”

—

Two hours later, and _The Rouge_ was up and ready for battle, men having prepared the guns and drawn their swords. The other ship, _Le Papillon, _now drawing up alongside them had yet to make any moves indicating a fight, but Louis had felt better getting his men prepared.__

__Louis and Liam were standing side by side at the helm, waiting with baited breath. They had barely spoken to one another since the ship had been announced, and it was a good thing too as Louis could feel the worry rolling off him in waves, almost tangible in the air around them._ _

__Grapple hooks were suddenly thrown over the side, and Louis’ hand darted towards the his sword, fingers closing around the handle, gripping it tightly._ _

__There was movement on the other side, and the sounds of a plank being thrown across could be heard. Louis signalled to the crew to hold their fire, noticing some of the younger members hands twitching towards their pistols. The last thing they needed to do was initiate a fight, not when the situation, at least so far, didn't appear to warrant one._ _

__A figure appeared,and judging by his long green coat and feathered hat it could only be the Captain, his boots clicking on wood as he jumped down onto the deck of _The Rogue._ His face was concealed by the hat, head tilted down towards the deck and Louis sucked in a shaky breath._ _

__He watched as the man made his way across deck, climbed the stairs, and crossed over to stand directly in front of him. He took a breath and tipped his head up, and Louis’ heart plummeted into his boots._ _

__Fiery green eyes stared back at him, lush pink lips pulled into the hint of a smirk._ _

__“Hello, _Captain._ ”_ _

__“I would say that it was nice to see you again but, well,” he continued, sighing dramatically “you and I both know that’d be a lie.”_ _

__Louis tried to speak but no sound passed through his lips, the sheer impossibility of what he was seeing shocking him, for once, into silence._ _

__“How the fuck am I still alive? You're probably wondering,” the man said, pulling off his hat and handing it to a blond haired man behind him, someone Louis hadn’t even noticed was there. He ran a hand through the mess of dark brown curls surrounding his face, pushing them back off his forehead. “I’ll answer any of your questions Louis, just tell me this. When you left me to die on that god forsaken island,” he paused staring straight into Louis’ soul , eyes burning brighter than the Caribbean sun above them. “What the _fuck_ were you thinking?”__


	2. Chapter One

Slamming the cabin door shut behind them Louis and Liam sat at the desk, gesturing for the man and his crew to do the same. The man sat, swinging his legs up onto the table and staring across at Louis with that stupid smirk still in place.

Clearing his throat Liam began to speak, outlining the purpose of the meeting and so on and so forth, Louis zoning out in favour of staring at the man. Harry _fucking_ Styles. Now he never thought he'd hear that name again. Wonders never cease.

After the initial shock of seeing him again Louis was now able to take him in properly. His hair was longer now, curling down to reach just past his shoulders. He'd filled out a bit too, and looked every inch the cocky, arrogant Captain he was trying to portray. His eyes, thought, had remained exactly the same, still as bright as they had ever been, and just as Louis remembered them from the last time he had seen him, thought then they were filled with angry, bitter tears as Louis had sailed away and left him.

Harry was speaking now, Louis realised belatedly, spinning a story about his departure from the island, something about passing merchant ships. Louis had had enough.

“Give us the room please,” Louis murmured, internally rolling his eyes at the sight of Harry’s self satisfied smirk.

“Captain I-” Liam started, clearly intending to argue with Louis on the idea, but he was shot down with one withering glare.

Liam, Harry’s quartermaster, Niall apparently, and their other respective companies departed, leaving Harry and Louis alone in the cabin.

Harry was still sitting with his boots propped up on the desk, looking the picture of smug, and twirling a lock of hair around one of his long fingers.

Louis skirted the edge of the desk so he was standing next to Harry’s feet, shoving them roughly off the desk and onto the floor. He allowed himself a smile at the way Harry’s eyes widened, reaching forward to grab the desk and steady himself before looking furiously up at Louis.

“God knows where those feet have been,” Louis offered in explanation, nose turned up in disgust.

“Would you?” Harry asked coyly, cocking his head to one side. “Would you like to know, Louis?”

“No,” said Louis shortly, “frankly, I don’t give a damn where you’ve been, or how you got off that fucking island I- oh don’t give me that look, you and I both know that was utter bullshit what you said to the men. All I want to know is what the fuck you’re doing here.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed, and Louis could practically see him bite back a snappy response, watching as he composed himself once more. “I’ve already told you Louis, I came to reconnect with an old friend.”

“Bullshit,” Louis shouted, smacking his hand down onto the desk in emphasis. “You are going to tell me what the fuck you’re doing on this ship or so help me God I-”

Harry silenced him with a hand in the air, gesturing that he should sit. Louis stood resolutely next to him, he’d be damned if he thought Louis was going to take orders from him on his own ship. Harry rolled his eyes, making a show of unbuttoning his coat before beginning to speak.

“I came here,” he started in his slow drawl, Louis impatiently staring at him as he talked, steadfastly resisting the urge to tap his foot on the floor, “because I want that map. I know you have it, I know you’re hiding it, and I know you’re lying to the men out there about it.”

Louis stared at him without speaking, mind immediately ablaze with questions. How the fuck could Harry know about that. There were only three people, as far as Louis knew, that were aware of that particular map's existence, never mind its whereabouts.

Still smirking, Harry reached for a cup, pouring out a generous measure of Louis’ rum. Well, Louis’ stolen rum, but the sentiment remained the same. He watched Harry take a long pull from the cup, tracking the movement of his neck stretching back, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed.

“I-” Louis began, voice crackling. He cleared his throat and tried again, knowing full well it was fruitless. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you?” Harry purred, setting his cup on the table and standing, pressing Louis’ body into the desk and murmuring into his ear. “I think you do know Louis, and I think you’re going to tell me.”

His voice had dropped to a whisper, pressing closer to Louis. He could feel the heat rolling off Harry’s body, could feel his warm breath hitting the side of his neck, could smell his scent, dark and rich, like spice. Louis’ breath hitched, and he swayed closer, drinking in the sight of Harry’s face, his eyes, those gorgeous plush lips. God he'd missed him. He could almost taste him, almost, if he moved just and inch closer, he could... Louis shoved him away roughly, Harry stumbling and falling back.

“Fuck you,” Louis spat, hands clenched tightly at his sides to keep from striking. “Get the fuck out of my cabin.”

And Harry, ever cool Harry went, but not before Louis caught a glimpse of his expression. Shock, for sure, resentment, anger, yet Louis could have sworn that just for a second a shadow of hurt flickered across his face before he wrenched open the door and disappeared from sight.

—

Later that night Liam let himself into Louis’ cabin. He had brought dinner, just small cuts of cured meats as they were fast running out of stores.

“We’ll reach Nassau by sunrise,” Liam said, handing him some bread and seating himself across from Louis, who nodded and began to eat. When Liam didn’t move Louis looked up at him, cocking an eyebrow.

“What are we going to do about him?” Liam asked, thrusting his head towards the door as though Harry would appear through it at any second.

Louis sighed, abandoning his meal for the moment. “He’s following us right?” he asked. Once Harry had, ah, _exited_ his cabin one of the men had come in to inform him that the ship was following along behind them. Liam nodded, picking up a price of meat, popping it into his mouth and chewing slowly.

“Well, we can talk to them tomorrow. I can’t- I can’t deal with them tonight, with him, I just can’t. Get a room in the tavern, ask Miss Guthrie once we’ve had our goods sorted, I'm sure she won’t mind.”

Seeming to deem that answer agreeable Liam stood, nodding at Louis. He walked over to the door, pausing with his hand on the handle. “Captain?” he asked, turning to face Louis, “are you, uhm, are you alright, sir?”

Louis swallowed, blinking fast against the unwelcome stinging sensation behind his eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

Smiling tightly Liam nodded before leaving. The door shut quietly, and Louis stood, pacing in front of the open window, ocean breeze drifting through and causing him to shiver, reaching out to shut it. Leaning his head against the glass, Louis took deep breaths through his nose, allowing one tear to slide down his face, landing on the pane below him.

He was surrounded by memories, the air around him thick and cloying, sticking to his skin and constricting his chest, his breathing choppy and uneven. Memories that rushed past him, a montage of his life.

There was Harry, the day they met, sixteen years old and scared, covered in blood and shaking like a leaf, eyes full of tears unshed, watching with his gun, still smoking, pointing straight at Louis. Louis’ own gun had been dropped at his feet, hands in the air in surrender. When Louis had reached him, pried the gun from his shaking hands, Harry had broken down, sobbing and screaming into Louis’ chest.

That night, when he told him he had been kept prisoner by men out for his blood. Men under the flag of a man called Cowell. Harry's father, Lord Styles, was the man they were really after. He had betrayed them in a plot to appoint them head of a Navy fleet. Louis had vowed to always protect him.

There he was, only three years older, beaming as he became quartermaster. Twenty years old and crying as he lay on the doctors table, minutes from dying of a stab wound.

Twenty-one, their first and only kiss. It was dark, they were spending the night on an island to avoid a storm. The only two left awake they had snuck into the trees and sat by the fire. Harry had leaned forward, whispering his intentions to Louis, and their lips had met for the briefest of moments. They hadn’t spoke of it in the morning.

Twenty-two.

The moment they found out Cowell was back. The moment they found out he knew their location. The moment they found out he was chasing them.

The moment Louis let Harry go.

Wiping his stinging eyes Louis turned away from the window and crossed the room, climbing into his hammock not once looking back.

—

It was late morning when they reached Nassau port, sun beating down from high above them and glinting off the water, sparkling and clear for their return. It was a total contrast to how Louis was feeling, and it jarred him slightly, the peaceful blue calm contradicting with the raging storm that was his mind.

After his talk with Harry everything had seemed out of sorts, so much so that Nassau itself looked different as they approached the shore on longboats. He had barely set foot on the sand when a runner boy approached him with the inevitable message.

“Max wants to see you right away sir. She’s waiting in the brothel for you, sir.”

Louis nodded once, signalling Liam that he was heading into the town, and following after the boy. To another’s eyes it would seem nothing had changed, yet to Louis it looked completely different. He couldn’t shake this feeling, and it was rather distracting, like an itch under his skin that he couldn’t scratch, a disembodied whisper confessing to him that nothing would ever be the same.

He shoved open the door to the brothel with more force than strictly necessary, trying to shake the feeling. Immediately, he spotted the familiar sight of Max leaning against a wall upstairs waiting for his arrival. She beckoned him with a finger before disappearing behind a door.

Louis followed her up immediately, earning him some guffaws and vulgar comments from the pigs that frequented the downstairs parlour. Fucking disgusting the lot of them, but to them, Louis supposed, he looked no different. If only they knew what went on behind the wooden doors of this place.

Max had already assembled herself at the table, pouring them both a drink as Louis shut the doors behind himself.

“I hear you bring news mon cher,” she said as Louis sat, gratefully accepting the drink she passed him and taking a long pull from it. “I hear it is news of the utmost importance, and that it could shock us all, hmm?”

Louis smiled dryly, setting his cup on the table and starting to speak. “I think you already know what I’ve got to tell you. In fact, I think you knew of this some time ago and I think that you only brought me here to force me to say it to you in some sort of sick game of yours.”

Max laughed, her black curls tumbling around her face as she threw her head back. “Oh Louis, how I’ve missed your company. Is it true then? He is back, yes?”

Louis nodded, dropping his head and picking at his sleeves as he was prone to do when upset. “I couldn’t believe it. Didn’t believe it at first. But it’s him. What the fuck am I gonna do Max, he fucking hates me. The only reason he hasn’t killed me yet is ‘cause he wants that map off me. Otherwise he would have slit my throat on sight.”

Max frowned sympathetically, placing a comforting hand on Louis’ elbow. “I think it is more complicated than that cher, you know this. You will figure it out Louis. You’ve faced worse than this before.”

Louis sighed, smiling tightly and looking away. “This is Harry though. And, Jesus Christ, I never thought I would see him again. Then he appears out of nowhere and ruins everything, of course he does. I always hated that bastard,” Louis said morosely, draining the rest of his rum in one long gulp.

“You loved him,” Max said softly, taking Louis’ hand in hers.

Louis sighed, squeezing her hand gratefully and letting her pull him closer for a brief hug. He neither agreed nor disagreed, but Max knew, of course she did. Max had become Louis’ friend basically the minute he set foot on this island. It would look strange, he supposed, to his crew, to the other islanders, a pirate friends with a whore. But it worked for them and that was what mattered. Max was one of his closest friends, if not the closest after he left H- No. He refused to think about that day for a reason.

Sensing his distress Max withdrew her hands, sitting up straight in a posture that clearly meant ‘I mean business.’ Louis smiled, a true smile, as he knew that look. “And _what_ ,” he asked in an exaggerated drawl, “could you _possibly_ have to tell me?”

Max smiled coyly, hand coming up to play with the ends of her hair. “I have much to report my dear,” she said, emphasising her French accent as though she was royalty. Louis huffed a laugh at the thought, he could see Max on a throne somewhere, sipping wine and ordering men around. “First order of business is in fact, business. Mr. Guthrie...”

Louis zoned in and out of Max’ speech, noting small points of interest and nothing more. Charles Vane was still hopelessly trying to win Eleanor back, the butcher was now underhandedly selling drugs to strangers to boost his business, Captain Hornigold had agreed to stay in the fort for a while longer... It went on and on. How so much happened in this place he would never understand. He had only been gone a week for God's sake.

“And what about you hmm?” Louis asked when Max had finally finished her list of goings on. “Have you seen Miss Guthrie lately? How is she?”

Max blushed, pouring another measure for herself and taking a drink. “Eleanor is well,” she said, rolling her eyes as Louis eyebrows shot up in interest.

“Oh I say. Eleanor is well is she, I wonder why that may be,” he said deliberately staring at Max and waggling his eyebrows, winking dramatically. Max laughed at his ridiculous expression, swatting him on the arm.

“Yes she is, and I have told you before it is none of your business ,cher, what goes on is between us and us alone,” she said determinedly, trying not to crack at Louis pouting face, head cocked to one side and blinking sadly. “Oh fine... I may have something I can tell you,” she said with a smile, recounting her latest escapades with Miss Guthrie, the trade boss of Nassau.

All of a sudden Max cut off mid-sentence as the door was thrown open, banging against the wall in the force of it. Harry stood in the doorway, clearly very angry about something, causing Louis to sigh internally. Mr. Morgan came running up behind him breathlessly, looking fearfully from Louis to Harry, “I-I'm sorry Captain, I was trailing him as you instructed sir but he, um, he got away from me.”

Resisting the urge to bury his head in his hands and scream for eternity Louis merely nodded at Morgan who, now bright red with embarrassment, retreated from the room, revealing an exasperated Liam and apprehensive looking Niall.

“Yes, Harry?” Louis asked, “what does your majesty want this time hmm? A drink? Some company? Me and Max aren't finished here yet you see, but there are plenty of girls downstairs who would love to entertain you for a while I'm sure.” Harry scowled, saying nothing but eyeing Louis and Max with severe distaste.

Actually sighing this time, Louis turned back to Max, smiling tightly at her. “I'm afraid we'll have to cut this meeting short love,” he said, standing and walking to the door, not before dropping a few coins into Max' expectant hand. If he gave her a bit more than usual she did not comment, merely taking the money and hiding it in her shoe.

“C'mon then Harry,” he said, clapping a hand on his shoulder, which was shoved off in disgust, “places to go, people to see and much to do, yes?” Harry huffed, walking out in front of Louis, who shot a wink at Max before shutting the door quietly after himself.

—

Louis was sat facing Miss Guthrie, Harry to his left, Liam and Niall standing behind their respective Captains. They all looked ready for a fight, hand resting on cutlasses and pistols, feet braced and ready to leap into action. Miss Guthrie, however, was looking at them from her side of the table with a wholly unimpressed expression, the all-seeing eyes of Mr. Scott trained on them as they sat in stony silence.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Eleanor muttered, staring at both Captains as though she was looking at two very naughty, very irritating children. “If he's so intent on finding this map, give him the fucking map then. I'm sorry but I don't see the fucking problem here,”

“He's an asshole that's the problem,” Louis burst out, Liam pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

Harry turned in his chair, anger flashing in his eyes. “She agrees with me Louis for fucks sake, give me the map. Why are you so intent on withholding it anyway you're such a fucking chi-”

“I'm sorry I must be misunderstood, you're saying you can just waltz back into my life after us thinking you were dead for a year, take my map, my prize, you might as well have my fucking ship while you're at it, take it, take the fucking crew as well it's not like I need them anym-”

“Oh yeah, yeah I'm the enemy here Louis that's right. It's not that you marooned me on a fucking island and left me for dead or anything no, I'm s-”

“Gentlemen,” Eleanor Guthrie shouted over their arguing, “Enough! Either give him the map or don't Captain, frankly, I don't give a shit. Once you've stopped acting like children then inform Mr. Scott of your plans and I'll be happy to help. Unless there's anything else I suggest you get the fuck out.” She stood from the table and walked out through the balcony door, disappearing from their view.

Harry's fingers began drumming on the table, each beat causing Louis to tense up further. Their two quartermasters rounded the table, Niall flopping into Miss Guthrie's empty chair, Liam standing stoically behind him. Harry's drumming increased its tempo, Louis taking a deep breath and blowing it out through his lips. When he could take it no longer Louis finally snapped.

“You know what. Take it. Take the map, and don’t come back.”

Far from having the effect he wanted, this statement only seemed to incense him further, Harry’s eyes widening slightly, then narrowing in anger. “You’d give it up so easily. Still. After all this time you’re as much of a fucking coward as you were back then.”

“Harry, I had no choice.”

“That’s bullshit. You and I both know that’s bullshit you don’t need to lie to me anymore. You couldn’t face it, so you ran. And the only person standing in your way was me. Tell me the truth, Louis. For once.”

— —

_The thunder of cannon fire filled the air, followed by the acrid smell of gunpowder. Louis leapt behind a barrel just in time as the return shot was fired. He could barely see, smoke and debris flying through the air in all directions. He covered his mouth, coughing, squinting around the ship._

_In front of him, feet away, the clash of steel on steel could be heard as the fighting grew to it's climax. Out of the smoke a figure appeared, gun pointed straight at Louis._

_He threw himself out of the way, shots hitting the barrel and liquid beginning to spray out of the newly formed holes. Grabbing his cutlass and starting up he advanced towards the figure. Trying to concentrate on not getting killed whilst searching smoke coloured air for your friends is no easy task, and he was soon covered in cuts again, stinging and throbbing, though thankfully none appeared fatal._

_He managed to duck the next swing, disarming the man and dispatching him in a few short moves. The smoke was beginning to clear again, and he squinted, searching._

_And there he was. Harry. Standing right at the bow of the ship and staring over the short strip of water between them and Cowell._

_He sprinted forwards, ducking through fights._

_“Harry we have to fall back,” he shouted over the sounds of the battle. “We can't keep it up for much longer, she can't take it.”_

_“She'll hold a little longer,” Harry replied, eyes blazing in a way Louis had never seen before._

_“Harry we're all going to die. We have to move.”_

_He turned to face Louis, the side of his face coated in blood from a cut on his forehead, knuckles white and pulled into fists._

_“I can't leave here Louis. We just need a little more time.”_

_The wood to the right of them was smashed into splinters, Louis slipping and reaching out to grab the railing._

_“She's not going to hold.”_

— —

“I had no choice, we had to run. If we hadn’t all of us would be dead I-” he trailed off, unsure.

Harry was looking down at his feet, lips pressed tightly into a thin line. If Louis didn't know him so well it would look like he was angry. As it was, Louis knew that look, knew that Harry was trying hard not to cry, shoulders hunched together. He looked, well, he looked broken, and something in that look had Louis wanting to break down himself.

“Harry,” he said softly, and watched as his head jerked upwards, expression schooling itself into one of bored indifference. “I really did have no choice,” he murmured.

The crackling of paper startled him. Apparently Liam had taken it upon himself to get out some parchment, and was now scribbling away at something that looked suspiciously like an agreement of some kind. Louis had been on the receiving end of them enough times to recognise them by now.

“Liam,” he said warningly, but was paid no mind, Liam continuing to write until, seemingly satisfied, he pocketed it, looking up as though shocked to find all eyes in the room staring at him. He flushed, scratching the back of his neck and blinking innocently at Louis' narrowed eyes.

“I was just thinking,” he said slowly, “that Miss Guthrie will want an account of what's happening. If you're still giving him the map of course, Captain.”

All eyed turned to Louis, who took a deep breath, still staring curiously at Liam. “I think, we need to reach an agreement that's going to benefit us. All of us,” he said, looking pointedly at Harry, who had thankfully pulled himself together enough to roll his eyes before nodded towards Louis to continue.

“You want the map to find Cowell, yes?” he asked, Harry's slight flinch not going unnoticed. He nodded imperceptibly, and Louis continued. “What're you going to do when you find him? I hear he's growing in strength again, hell, even the Navy are starting to get behind what he's saying. They want to wipe out the pirates once and for all.”

“I can handle him,” Harry said, defiant, just like he always was.

“I don't doubt that. I do, however, doubt that that sorry excuse for a ship out there could take much damage. Looks like she'd sink at the first shot, and then what would you do?”

“That 'sorry excuse for a ship' has gone through more than you could ever understand. She'll hold.”

Louis looked at him sceptically, but nodded nonetheless. “If you say so. What about your guns though? You've got what, four?”

“Twelve” he said, clearly angry at Louis' rounds of questioning. “She's got twelve guns Louis is there anything else? She floats, in case you were wondering that too.”

Holding up his hands Louis stifled a laugh at Harry's put-out expression. “Alright so you've got twelve. Cowell has at least twenty, you know that right? My point,” he said, voice rising over Harry's attempts to interrupt him, “my point is you're outmatched. You're outmatched on numbers, size, and speed. You're either going to need a larger ship, or...” he paused, bracing himself, “or, you'll need someone to come with you.”

“No. Absolutely not,” he looked hastily across at Niall.

“Captain, if I may-”

“You may not,” Harry said haughtily.

Niall continued as though he had not heard. “Captain Tomlinson makes a good point. We don't have sufficient numbers, another ship would make a lot of sense, not to mention that he's the one with the map. And all the knowledge. And an idea of where to start. Oh, a-”

“Alright, Niall,” Harry huffed, “I think we get it, thanks.” He looked up at Louis, eyes performing a full body sweep, lips pursing into a tight line before giving himself a little shake and holding out his hand. “Captain Tomlinson, I think we have a deal.”

—

After another three hours of negotiations, planning, and general bickering Louis was exhausted. Harry had fought him on absolutely everything from general strategy to the amount of rum they were taking. It was ridiculous, and yet Louis couldn’t find it in himself to hold his tongue, arguing back with just as much strength until Liam and Niall had taken over negotiations and left the two Captains to sit in stony silence. But at least they had a plan.

He was now on his way back to the beach, the heat of the afternoon slowly fading to give way into dusk. The streets were just as full as they were in the day, drunken shouts and bottles clinking could be heard, sounds of the night filling the still air. Louis had almost reached the beach when his arm was caught in a grip tight enough to bruise and was dragged unceremoniously towards a dark corner. He glanced up and had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. Harry.

“What the fuck do you want now?” Louis asked, annoyed. He had been looking forward to his dinner surrounded by his friends in his tent.

“I need to talk to you,” Harry muttered low, pressing Louis back against the wall as a group of people passed on the way to the beach.

“Evidently,” Louis murmured back, annoyed.

Harry huffed, pulling him further into the alley. “So, I may not have been entirely truthful, before, when I said we had a deal.” Louis stared impatiently, thoughts still on his dinner. “The thing is, this plan, this 'wild goose chase' as your Quartermaster seems to enjoy calling it, it's not really. A chase that is. Well, what I mean to say is t-”

“Can you get to the fucking point please. Much as it may shock you, I do have things to do today other than stand around chatting to you.” Harry glared at him yet continued as though he had not been interrupted.

“I have the schedule. And before you look at me like that,” he said as Louis opened his mouth, “Niall doesn't know. Nobody else knows about this. And if you know what's good for you it's gonna fucking stay that way.”

“Why, are you scared Niall's going to go after Cowell himself?”

“No. But I wouldn't put it past the crew, or the rest of the island if word got out. I have a copy here look-” he fumbled around in his pockets for a moment before crushing a piece of paper into Louis' hand. “Take it, memorise it, then destroy it. And you can't tell anyone, not even Liam, that we've seen this, alright.”

“Why me?” Louis asked before he could stop himself.

“Because for whatever stupid reason, I trust you,” Harry said, taking a deep breath. “I trust you. Don't lose it.” And with that he spun on his heel, leaving Louis to stand and stare at his retreating form.

Later that night, after he had burned the schedule and collapsed onto his mat, Louis lay awake for a long time, the look on Harry's face when he told him that he trusted him burning brightly behind his eyes.

–

The days leading up to their departure passed quickly, a haze of frenzied preparations and somewhat grudging agreement between the two crews. At one point Max had cornered him on his way to the tavern, and he had hastily told her the full story, assuring her that he was fine and he and Harry had both willing agreed to this partnership. As for Harry he hadn't seen him often, and when he had it was in Miss Guthrie's office to go over details and make arrangements.

They had both come to some sort of silent truce for the time being. Cowell's schedule was still burned into Louis' mind, but he'd kept his word and told no one. How he and Harry were supposed to do this alone, Louis had no idea but for now he was just following Harry's lead. The schedule would lead them to where they needed to be eventually, Louis just had to trust that and ignore the covert looks from Liam that showed he knew they were up to something.

Their last night in Nassau found the two crews parked out on the beach, drinking and laughing round a large fire that they had going. Niall was halfway through some story about a mermaid he had supposedly met in a pub, and Louis was lounged against one of the logs they were using as seats. Niall's story trailed off into nothing and with a start they realised that only the two Captains and their quartermasters remained sitting around the fire.

Harry hadn’t been contributing to the conversation much, he was laying in the sand, eyes staring up at the stars. Louis knew that look, the familiarity of it piercing his chest. It was a funny thing really, the longer he spent in Harry’s company the more he missed him. He missed how they were, their friendship as it used to be, closer than close, loving, carefree.

He didn't know what made him do it, perhaps it was the heady feeling of rum flowing through him, or the warmth of the flames as the danced into the night sky, or the way Harry was laying, familiar yet changed. “'Ve got a story,” he slurred slightly, tapping Liam on the shoulder with his bottle. “Li- Li 've got a story for you, 's a good one I promise.”

Liam barely acknowledged him, grabbing the bottle out of his hands and taking a pull from it, then gesturing for Louis to get going.

“It's about a boy I met a long time ago on a boat.” Again, this gained no reaction from any of the men laying around him, yet, huffing, Louis continued on. “So I was out sailing on a merchant ship right, this was before the pirating days when I was still respectable-” this earned a laugh from Liam, who quickly shut up at the look Louis gave him.

“As I was saying, we were out an' we saw some sails quite far out, but I, well I mean to say they, was, ehm what was I saying. Oh, that's right, so we caught up with them pretty quick, British colours so we weren't worried but then they started to turn see, and we were worried then, really worried and then they put up the black. Captain just about shit himself. Pretty horrific fight followed, but we managed to pull them down, mind you, huh it was hard work what with Stanley fucki-”

“Will you get on with it Lou,” Liam moaned from where he had slumped down the log and onto the sand, “Boring us to death with your shitty stories,” he muttered under his breath. Louis pretended like he hadn't heard, making a mental note to address his crew tomorrow about the rudeness he had to endure. Unacceptable.

“Right so we got on the ship, had a look around, and lo and behold who should be standing in the Captain’s cabin but young Harold over there, covered in blood he was, tried to bloody shoot me I reckon if I hadn't dropped me pistol first, and so I walk over to him and I-”

“Louis,” comes Harry's voice from the sand, and even in his drunken state he can tell that it's a warning. He keeps going anyway.

“So I get his pistol off've him right an' he's shaking a bit so I gave him a bit of a hug, tiny little thing he was, smaller than me remember that Haz, remember when you used t'be smaller than me. Anyway, I asked him what he was doing on the ship in the Captain’s cabin and he says he was looking for some letters right so I ask him what letters an-”

“Louis” Harry says and he's much louder this time, there's an icy edge to his voice that can't be ignored. Again, Louis foregoes the warning.

“He says letters about his dad see, cause they killed him see and he wants to know why, and I said why bother about the knowing when you could be doing something about it, an' he looks at me all confused and I said one thing didn't I H, one thing I said. Revenge. An' of course little Harry was all for that idea so we started plotting getting our own ship see, and we did too, nicked hundreds of pounds from the ships hold and bought the next boat we saw, found ourselves a crew, filled them with the prospect of revenge against Britain and all that shite and well. Skip forward a few years an me an' H are best friends by then, would've done anything for him I would've 'cause you see I didn't really want to just be friends cause I lov-”

“Louis,” Harry yelled, staggering up from his spot in the sand. “Don't you ever- how dare- how fucking dare you say something like that, after everything you did to me, how can you say that you- you never loved me.” He sounded hysterical, long hair whipping around his face and tears beginning to pour from his furious eyes. “You don't know shit about that Louis. You don't know shit.” And with that he turned from the camp and stormed away, leaving behind shocked silence and regret.

Horrified at himself, and suddenly feeling completely and utterly sober, Louis turned away from the camp and ran in the opposite direction, not stopping until he reached the other side of the beach and vomited all over the sand, tears stinging in his eyes. He walked on until the pain got too unbearable and collapsed onto the beach, laying in a heap and sobbing into his arms, uncaring of who saw him. The last thing he felt was Liam coming up behind him, calling to see if he was alright before he passed out.

—

Light streamed through the windows in Louis' cabin, piercing his eyes unbearably until he adjusted to it. From the way the shadows were cast around the room he could tell it was early morning, only the sounds of the waves lapping softly against the ship disturbed the silence.

The events of last night came back to him in broken fragments, Harry's eyes, the fire, the stories, the anger, crying his heart out on Liam's shoulder as he carried him back to his cabin. He felt drained, Harry's reaction making him feel as though there was much more to the story than he ever let on. Louis hadn't been thinking as he told that story, their story. Even now as he lay in his hammock, he couldn't believe he had almost told Harry he loved him. Back then they shared everything together. At the time Louis always had the niggling thought that perhaps Harry hadn't been as invested in Louis as much as Louis had been with him.

Then again, he knew Harry had never felt the way Louis had every time they so much as looked at each other, he never felt the deep ache in his very bones to be close to him, cherish him. Harry had never loved him. That was always what it came back to. Harry didn't love him, and so Louis never told him. Instead he watched as Harry became more smart, more beautiful and more full of sadness with each passing day. There was nothing he could do but watched as Harry raged against the people who had taken everything from him. Who would've done so again had Louis not put a stop to it.

Did Harry know then, that all he ever did he did it for the love he held in his heart? Did he know that Louis only ever wanted to protect him? He only wanted Harry to be safe. In order to save him, he did the only thing he ever knew how. He broke his own heart.

And now, it seemed, he'd done it again, only this time Harry wasn't fading into the distance on an island, he was his partner now. They were meant to be setting off in a mere few hours, and how he was going to make it up to Harry he had no idea.

There was a soft knock on the cabin door, before it opened to reveal Liam, looking concerned. When he saw Louis was awake he tried to smile, but it looked like more of a grimace.

“Morning, Lou,” he said quietly, shutting the door. “How are you feeling now?”

“I... I’m alright,” Louis said, voice scratching slightly.

Liam perched himself on the end of the hammock, Louis shifting his feet to make room. He looked as though he was debating something, and Louis left him to it, knowing that given enough time Liam would tell him anyway. “Apparently Harr-, Captain Styles that is, uhm, he was pretty upset last night.”

Louis nodded down at his blanket, unsure of how to respond. “I think you need to go talk to him Lou, smooth it all over.”

“It’s not as easy as that Li, I almost told him. I have no idea what I should say.” He pulled himself upright, hugging his knees into his chest. Any other time and Liam would’ve launched into a speech on negotiation, but he simply scooted forwards on the bed, wrapping his arms around Louis.

“As your quartermaster, I would say you need to talk to him and put it all behind you. But as your friend, I would say you need to do what’s best for you. If you don’t want to talk then I’ll go myself and talk things over with Niall.”

Louis nodded into Liam’s shoulder, giving him a squeeze before pulling back. “I’ll talk to him,” Louis said, avoiding Liam’s concerned gaze “where is he?”

Liam didn't answer, continuing to look at Louis with concern. “Li, c'mon it's just Harry. I'll be fine.”

“He's on the beach. Niall told me he refused to come back to the ship last night.”

Louis nodded, gathering his things he began to get dressed, Liam waiting for him by the doorway. “Not to hurry this, I know it's important for you, but we really need to leave if we're to have any chance of catching up on our leads.”

“Liam,” said Louis, placing a hand on his shoulder, “I've got this.”  
—

It took him a while to find Harry in amongst the hustle of activity on the beach. He was sitting in the shade of a large palm, legs drawn up against his chest, chin resting on his knees, staring dejectedly into the sand. It was as though Louis' heart was breaking all over again, and he wanted nothing more than to kneel down and cradle Harry into his arms and tell him everything was going to be alright.

Instead he sat down beside him silently, staring out at the clear blue in front of them. He waited for Harry to speak but nothing came, continuing to sit silently on the sand. Louis turned his head to look at him, only to be met with Harry's bright green eyes staring straight back. With a wince, Louis noticed how bloodshot his eyes were, tear tracks making their way through the dirt and sand that had collected on his face overnight.

“Harry,” Louis started, completely at a loss of what to say.

“No, Louis,” he whispered back. “Don't apologise to me, it was my fault. I shouldn't have went off like that, I know you didn't mean what you said.” He dropped his gaze, drawing circles in the sand. “I was drunk, and tired. I just knew that I wanted to shout at you for something, that I had to shout at you for something.”

“Why?” Louis asked, voice breaking.

“Because I have no idea what I'm doing. What if we catch up with Cowell and it all happens again? What if we become friends again and you leave me again? I can't deal with that, Louis, I just can't.”

“I won't, Harry. I promise you I will never leave you again. This isn't like last time.” He put his hand down on top of Harry's, wiping away his tears. Turning over Harry's hand he drew a circle on his palm, tracing the lines. His hands were more calloused now, and there were more scars lining them. “It's going to be okay, Harry.”

“I hope so,” he said, entwining their fingers together. “As long as...” he sighed, looking up to meet Louis eyes. “As long as you don't still have that violin Louis. Because you were terrible at that thing Louis, hey, heyy-” he cut off laughing as he fell back into the sand, Louis shoving him.

“You shit, I thought you had a genuine concern,” Louis squawked, shoving Harry back down as he tried to sit up, still laughing. “I wasn't bad. Was I?” he pouted, widening his eyes and looking down at Harry.

“Absolutely god awful,” Harry said solemnly, finally dragging himself upright, “but at least it kept the sea monsters away.”

“Prick,” Louis muttered getting up and helping Harry to his feet. “Did you seriously sleep out here, I thought Niall was kidding,” he said as he attempted to brush sand off Harry's back.

“Oh, uhm, yeah, it helps me sleep, looking at the stars,” he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, both of them thinking of when they were younger, sneaking up onto the deck at night to watch the stars, sitting in the warm, still nights, surrounded only by the expanse of deep blue water.

“We should get going,” Louis said, turning back towards their ships, “they'll be wondering if we've killed each other or something.”

Harry laughed quietly and they set off through the sand. “Hey Louis,” he said, hand on Louis' elbow.

“Yeah, H?”

“Do you think we could maybe try and put it behind us. I mean, do you think we could ever be friends again?”

The earnestness in his voice shocked Louis for a moment, transporting him back a long time ago. “Yeah, Harry, I think we just might.”


	3. Chapter Two

Liam's face was a picture when they finally got back on board. He had tried to follow him into his cabin, but Louis shook his head. He didn't have the energy for an interrogation right now. Poor Liam, he had probably been expecting the worst Louis mused as he gave the usual orders to set sail.

Now though, finally left alone in his cabin Louis thought over their plan once more. The schedule, Cowell's schedule, was unreliable at best, but as it was all they had it was their only hope of ever catching up with him. As Louis thought more about it part of him, the part he usually tried to stamp out, was screaming at him to turn around and give it all up.

Why Harry was deciding to keep it a secret Louis could understand. He didn't trust his men, did anyone? The slightest shot at the amount of money Cowell holds and the entire West Indes would be out in a flash, and before you know it the schedule would be gone. But keeping it from their men, from their quartermasters, that would practically be impossible.

The first part of the plan was the one causing them the most trouble. They were travelling to Port Royal where, according to the schedule, Cowell had last been two weeks ago. If he had been, they were hoping to catch a trace in order to figure out the rest of the bloody schedule, but if he hadn't. Well if he hadn't Louis had no idea what they were supposed to do. Wander around until they found something he supposed.

And then there was Harry. Dear god, what had he been thinking, telling him they could be friends. How was that ever supposed to work. Every time he looked over at Harry's ship guilt flooded through him. He was the reason they were going after this ship again. If he had just let Harry try the last time, if he had just believed him, they would never have been in this situation.

He would have to curb his protectiveness somehow, his need to ensure Harry was kept safe and happy at all times. He'd let it rule once and look where they ended up. Almost dead, and on the run from one of the most powerful anti-pirate crusaders of all time.

— —

_Cannon fire sounded from outside the cabin, the sounds of the battle falling away as Liam slammed the door shut behind them._

_“Captain, if we stay, we're doomed.”_

_Louis’ hands griped the edge of the desk, knuckles whitening. “We can’t be. You said you would get us through this Liam. You said we had more time”_

_“I’m sorry Captain. There's nothing we can do. ” Liam was looking at Louis with anxious trepidation, hands wringing together._

_“Fuck Liam, we have to run. There’s nothing we can do. They won’t stop till we’re all at the bottom.”_

_“But- Captain what about...” he trailed off, as if unsure as to what Louis would do if he mentioned Harry’s name._

_“I’ll deal with him,” Louis said, harsh determination written in the set of his jaw, his back straightening._

_Finally, Liam asked the fateful question. “What are you’re orders sir?”_

_Louis took a deep breath, steeling himself for the reaction._

_“Cut the ties. We run.”_

— —

They arrived in Port Royal just as the sun began to set, merchants closing up their neatly lined stalls on the pier. It was so different to Nassau, so refined, ordered. It made Louis feel claustrophobic.

They were posing as goods transporters, all wearing their good coats and boots that had no doubt been stolen from one of those very ships. Most of the men would be staying on the ships but a hand-picked few would be going in teams of two or three to search the town for information. Of course, somehow Liam had made it so Louis was once again paired with Harry.

They disembarked, Louis paying for their mooring and shaking the men's hands. Harry strolled along beside him, and, as they turned onto the streets, handed Louis the money back.

“You weren't supposed to steal it back _now_ ,” Louis sighed, exasperated.

“Yeah, but where's the fun in that,” Harry replied, lips pulling into a smirk.

Shaking his head, Louis nudged Harry towards the backstreets. At a questioning look he explained.

“If you want to find out information about anyone, discreetly and at a fairly good price, the best place is always the local brothel.”

“Max told me,” Louis said in response to Harry's raised eyebrows, and if he blushed a little at that look, no one had to know.

—

Though they had each made the rounds of asking the ladies, either none had the information they were looking for, or none were willing to share. Either way they now had considerably less money than they started with, and nothing but a terrible reputation to show for it. Now no one would speak to them, as they apparently didn't pay enough for what they were looking for.

They had given up, and had gone to have a meal, before return to the brothel for some more drinks, and perhaps, if luck would have it, to find some more information.

Harry was sitting in the corner, presumably trying to extract more information from one of the girls whilst Louis had given up and gone to sat at the bar. Louis was drunk. No not drunk, he was tipsy. Yeah, just tipsy. Harry wasn't looking at him. Why wasn't he looking at him? Louis wanted Harry to look at him.

Louis watched as Harry pulled one of the girls in close, whispering in her ear to make her giggle, eyes alight with mirth. He grimaced, turning back to his rum and draining the cup, signalling the bartender for another.

He could see Harry sneaking glances at him, and the last of his rational thought seemed to flee him. So, Harry wanted to make him jealous. Two could play at that game. Louis turned in his seat, surveying the room. Unfortunately, everyone seemed currently occupied save for the two people sitting on either side of him, nursing their own respective cups of alcohol.

Smoothing his hair back into something he hoped resembled attractive, Louis turned to the person on his left.

“Hey,” he murmured softly, barely heard over the sounds of the tavern. The man looked up with a start, grinning drunkenly at Louis from a row of yellowed, chipped and missing teeth, eyes glazed and far away. Louis’ eyes widened, immediately turning to the man on his right and almost falling off his stool in the process.

So much for seduction. At this rate he was going to end up killing someone from sheer bad luck. The man he had not so graciously fallen onto barely even spared him a glance, turning back to his cup.

“Sorry,” Louis muttered, resolutely avoiding Harry’s watchful gaze from across the room. Goddamn him! No, he wasn’t going to get the better of Louis for fucks sake.

Thankfully the man on his right had turned from his cup to stare at Louis in detached curiosity. Or perhaps that was just his normal demeanour, aloof and seemingly unconcerned.

“Another?” Louis asked, pointing to his drink with a smile.

The man merely grunted, and Louis took that to mean yes, hailing yet another drink from the barman. “So,” said Louis, casting around for a topic of conversation that wouldn’t seem forced. “You new here? I ‘aven’t seen you around here before.”

This was true at least, he hadn’t ever seen him before, but then again, he had never really been here before. But he wasn't drunk. Just tipsy. The man was very attractive Louis noted, long black hair spilling from a tie on his back, sharp caramel eyes staring back at him, contemplating his answer, and possibly Louis’ intentions.

“Yes,” he said gruffly, offering no further explanation and continuing to stare at Louis with that unsettling intensity.

Louis leaned closer, angling himself so Harry couldn’t see his face. “What’s your name then?” Louis inquired lowly, shifting in his seat so he could watch Harry from the corner of his eye. He was still sitting with the girls all over him, one of them draping herself on his lap, but he was no longer speaking to them, eyes focused on Louis.

“Why’d you want to know?” he asked, frowning into his empty cup. Louis smiled up from under his lashes, leaning closer.

“Couldn’t I just be interested?” Louis asked, noting how Harry was now uncomfortably sitting with one of the girls still trying to entice him into doing something and now fully in his lap as he continued to stare across the room.

“No one is just interested. There’s always an ulterior motive.” Fuck this man was cheery Louis thought, once again taking in his brown eyes, now tinged with sorrow.

“That’s cheery,” he said, shifting closer still and smiling widely. From anywhere else in the room he was completely concealed from view, there was no risk of him being seen openly trying to flirt with a random man in a bar. Not that anyone would have minded anyway Louis mused, the men in there either too drunk, stoned or distracted with the prospect of sex to care what Louis was doing. No one that was except Harry.

To Harry, this was exactly as Louis wanted it to look, leaning in close to the man, smiling, talking, flirting and, as it so seemed, completely enamoured by the surly, completely uninterested gentleman on his right. And boy oh boy was it having an effect. He was now alone in the corner; the girls having deserted him when they realised they would be getting no more custom from him.

The thought that they might have had some of the information they needed didn't even cross Louis' mind.

The man heaved a sigh, glancing at Louis and then discreetly across the room to try and guess what Louis was looking at. “You trying to make one of the girls jealous or something,” he asked, eyes still scanning the room with an intense gaze.

“Something like that,” Louis whispered, leaning even closer. The man turned his head, eyes widening a fraction at how close Louis was now, close enough to count every eyelash, to feel every breath.

Louis was suddenly hauled off his seat and slammed into the bar, one large hand wrapped around his throat and furious green eyes boring into his. The man beside him looked down at his drink again, unconcerned. So much for that.

“And just what the fuck,” Harry said, tightening his hand lightly, flexing, “do you think you are doing?” Louis gasped for breath, wriggling in his grip to try and get away. Harry let him go, Louis stumbling slightly as he was dropped, one hand coming to his throat and massaging it.

Grabbing Harry's arm he dragged him form the bar, spilling out into the night and making for the ship.

Only when they were standing in Louis' cabin, finally alone, did he break the heavy silence between them. “You have no right to come up to me like that, I was having a lovely conversation and you've quite ruined it now.”

“Oh, have I,” Harry said, voice low and dangerous, “well I do apologise, next time you're about to get yourself killed I won't interfere.”

“I- what?” Louis asked, brain sluggish from the alcohol.

“Do you know who that was you were speaking to Louis?” When he shook his head Harry nodded, eyes full of fire, “I thought not. That was Zayn Malik,” he said, watching as Louis' eyes widened. Zayn was a notorious for piracy throughout the world, his brutality and cruelty feared by many, pirates alike.

Harry was watching him silently as Louis processed the information. Did that mean that Harry had saved him?

“Why?” he asked, “why save me? Why not let me be killed? Would solve a lot of problems for you.”

Harry glared at him; Louis could see the conflicting emotions running across his face as he contemplated his answer. “I, I couldn't stand by and watch you get killed Louis, you- I. I need you. Goddamnit! I fucking hate you, you infuriate me. But I fucking need you.”

Louis mouth opened softly, Harry's heavy breathing the only sound in the quiet cabin.

One minute they were standing staring at each other the next they crashed together like the tide, mouths coming together in a bruising clash of lips and teeth. Louis bit down on Harry's plush lower lip, his lips immediately parting and granting Louis entrance. Louis licked into his mouth, tongue exploring every corner, and sliding against one Harry's in a slick hot storm.

Harry's hands clutched at Louis' hips, pressing him into the edge of the desk and holding him there without mercy. No doubt he would be left with bruises come tomorrow Louis thought as he fisted a hand into Harry's hair, tugging harshly and drinking in the moans that were ripped from his throat.

Harry was the first to break, pulling away with a gorgeously slick sound, lips shining with their combined spit in the low lamplight, eyes dark, cheeks flushed and breathing harshly. “Oil?” he murmured, voice deep and gravelly. Louis almost smiled, even though they both knew that there was no turning back now Harry was still offering him an out, a chance to say no, to tell him to fuck off and pretend none of this had happened.

“Top drawer,” he said in answer, ridding himself of his coat and shirt, hands working on his breeches as Harry returned, bottle of oil clutched in his fist. Laying it on the table next to him, he caught Louis' hands in his own, gently, ever so gently removing them. He undid the ties and tugged Louis' breeches down harshly, one warm hand immediately enveloping Louis' cock, pumping it quickly, thumb coming to swipe at his slit on every upstroke.

Louis moaned loudly, grasping at Harry's shirt and pulling him closer to cement their mouth together once more, sucking wetly on his tongue and moaning into his mouth at the sensations. Abruptly, Harry let go of his cock, and Louis whined, starting to complain when he was lifted up off the desk and turned over, Harry pushing him down until every inch of his body was flush with the desk beneath him.

“Fuck” he moaned as he felt the pad of Harry's thumb sweeping down over his hole, pressing lightly but never fully inside. Louis keened, chasing the feeling and Harry withdrew his hand, only to be replaced moments later with two slicked fingers, pushing in past his rim and scissoring, stretching him open, preparing him. Moaning obscenely at the intrusion, he began to thrust back against them, chasing the feeling of being full, being full of Harry.

A third finger was slipped in alongside the others, asshole clenching around them as Harry continued to fuck them inside, never once touching the bundle of nerves that would have Louis crying out. He was enough of an incoherent mess as it was, whimpering, moaning and begging Harry to hurry the fuck up and fuck him already. His fingers suddenly ceased their ministrations, pulling out with a soft squelching noise. “Please, 'm ready” Louis moaned, words slurred in pleasure. Harry was quick to oblige.

Both of them moaned at the feeling, Harry's cock pushing past the tight rim of muscle into Louis' all-encompassing heat. He paused for barely a moment, shifting position slightly and making Louis squirm. Then he pulled out and slammed back in, thrusting into him hard and fast, and Louis whined at the feeling of being full after so long. He could feel every push and drag of Harry's cock inside him, scrabbling around on the desk to find purchase, to ground himself.

Harry grabbed Louis' hands, moving them behind his back and holding them there, fucking him in short sharp thrusts, their ragged breathing and choked moaning filling the room. Skin slapping against skin sounded too, reverberating off the walls and deep in Louis' chest, his moans becoming louder and more desperate. Months, it felt, had been leading up to this moment, perhaps even years, finally coming together in a heady rush of sweat and sex, Harry's rough thrusts filling him so completely that he never wanted this to end.

One of Harry's hands came up to rest on Louis' shoulder, holding him still and pressing his body into the desk, grounding him, reassuring him. He set a gruelling pace, every time his cock slammed inside Louis could feel himself lose it a little more, his grip on the world slipping away. Nothing else mattered apart from this, it was just the two of them alone in this room, pressed against each other as intimately as two could ever be.

Louis could feel the heat building in his stomach, coiling tightly like a rope ready to spring. He could hear himself moaning loudly, incoherent choked noises, desperately fucking himself back onto Harry's cock. He was so close, entire body taunt with it, and Harry slipped forwards ever so slightly, angle changing just so, nailing Louis' prostate with every hard thrust. That was all it took for Louis, he came with a shout of Harry's name, white exploding behind his eyelids and ears ringing, hole clenching vice like around Harry's cock, his own dick pulsing out come, covering his stomach and coating the desk in long ropes of white.

He whimpered, head falling forwards onto the desk as Harry continued to pound into him, chasing his own orgasm. Harry's hands flew to grip his hips, thrusting sloppily into Louis' pliant body, breath coming in harsh gasps. Louis felt the moment he came, thrusting deep into Louis' ass and burying himself there, could feel his come pulsing inside, wet, hot and perfect, filling him up, Harry groaning deeply as he released.

Moments later Harry pulled away, Louis biting down a whimper at the feeling of emptiness that overtook him. He felt as Harry grabbed a rag and cleaned him up, rough material scratching at his sensitive skin. Belatedly he realised he had been moved to his hammock, Harry laying him gently before making as though to leave.

Louis grabbed out at him, drunk and sex sleepy, no longer in control of his own actions. At least that's what he told himself when he asked quietly, voice raspy and tired, “stay.” Harry blinked down at him, at the hand clutched to his bicep and climbed in beside him without comment, turning onto his side and offering his back to Louis. Humming contentedly Louis wrapped himself around Harry's warm body, hand cradling his stomach and nosing into his long hair, before falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

—

Louis awoke slowly. He was warm, oh so warm and he could feel something heavy laying on his chest, squashing him a little, making him feel heavy and sleepy but he did not mind. He was warm so he did not mind.

Humming, his eyes flickered open, and he blinked at the onslaught of light coming through the windows, blinding his eyes momentarily. Looking down at his chest he sucked in a gulp of air, almost choking. The warm cozy thing laying on him turned out to be Harry’s body draped over his, arms and legs a tangle, his head resting on Louis’ chest, curls pillowed around him and lips puffing out quiet breaths.

He felt his chest constrict at the sight. He looked so peaceful like this, so young. After abandoning Harry on that island, he had felt guilty for months, Liam the only one who could get him back to his normal self. He felt it now, guilt racking his body at the sight of Harry sleeping softly on his chest. Slowly, scared to wake him, Louis brought one hand to his face, letting his fingers trail down the side of his cheek. Harry snuffled in his sleep, burrowing in closer to the warmth of Louis' hand.

He was suddenly struck by the overwhelming urge to run, to get away before Harry woke up. Dear God, they were drunk last night, Harry would undoubtedly regret it when he awoke, and Louis didn't want to be there to see it. He couldn't watch Harry's face realise who it was he was laying against. He removed his hand as if scalded, almost tripping in his haste to detangle himself from the hammock, and from Harry's soft, sleepy skin.

He scooped up his clothes from the cabin floor and was hastily pulling on his breeches when he heard the unmistakable sounds of Harry waking up. He pulled his shirt over his head before his eyes searched upwards to meet Harry's. He was unable to discern the emotions running across his face. Anger? Fear? Betrayal? Or something else entirely? Louis slipped his feet into his boots wordlessly, crossing to the door. He felt Harry's eyes on him long after he had gone.


	4. Chapter Three

Most of the men had yet to return to the ship, and Louis prayed that meant they had some leads. The thought of them coming to ask if he and Harry had found anything last night made the guilt in his stomach coil tightly.

He still couldn't quite believe he had let it happen. They had agreed on a truce a mere week ago, and to be friends even less than that. And now they had had sex.

Louis couldn't lie that he hadn't seen it coming. That he hadn't wanted it to happen the minute they formed their truce. Or even before that, when Harry tipped his hat up to stare at him with those blazing green eyes after a year apart.

After almost an hour of standing staring into the clear blue depths around him, Louis deemed it safe to return to his cabin.

Still, he was relieved to find it empty, sitting at his desk and allowing himself to become engrossed in the book he had been reading. He steadfastly ignored the fact that it, along with a number of other items had found itself on the floor after last night’s escapades.

It was nearly noon when the rest of the men arrived back onboard. Many of them claimed that they had been out searching for clues for hours, but it was clear to anyone of sense that they had been out drinking for most of the night, waves of stale alcohol and sweat pouring from them by the gallon.

Louis waved them away, signalling Liam to stay behind.

“Did you find anything?” he asked quietly, aware of some of the men lingering in the doorway, desperate for any hint of information.

“Nothing of great interest. It seems that his men were seen about two weeks ago, roaming the streets, causing their usual upset. But Cowell himself hasn't been seen for weeks now.”

“How many weeks?” Louis inquired, dipping his quill into the ink and grabbing a scrap piece of paper.

“I'd say six, but the men I spoke to weren't too sure. Kept getting their stories confused with each other.”

Louis hummed, scratching at the paper. To Liam it might not have been of great interest, but to Louis it seemed the biggest mystery they had unearthed so far.

“Captain,” Liam started, his voice dropping to a tone that Louis dubbed his 'conversational' tone, though it sounded so similar to his 'something is gravely wrong' tone that Louis had given up trying to tell the difference. What came next would either be an interesting anecdote about Liam's day or the news that the ship was bankrupt, broken, and sinking into the watery depths.

“I saw Har-, Captain Styles that is, leaving your cabin this morning.”

“Did you now,” Louis said mildly, heart leaping into his throat. Clearly, it was the latter of the two options. “We were simply comparing notes on last night’s mission Liam, nothing more.”

Liam stared back at him with an uncertain flicker behind his eyes.

“I suggest you get back to your duties.”

Liam nodded, turning to leave, but not before Louis noticed the path of his eyes. Harry's coat and hat were still laying on the floor beside his hammock.

–--

Louis took a deep breath, hands shaking ever so slightly. They had decided to get away from Port Royal as quickly as possible. The four day return trip to Nassau had been uneventful, and Louis, though he wouldn’t admit it to another soul, had spent most of the journey hiding in his cabin.

He hadn’t seen Harry since that night and was avoiding all thought of him. Well, he was trying to. It didn’t work very well, but at least he was trying. Unfortunately, purposefully not thinking about Harry made him think about him all the more. As with everything in life the minute he was not allowed to think about something that was all he could focus on.

In short, he had not stopped thinking about Harry for four days.

That left him here, standing outside Harry’s cabin holding onto the coat that he left behind, hand outstretched as though to knock on the worn wooden door.

"Just come in, would you?" came Harry’s voice from inside the cabin.

Louis startled, dripping the hat onto the floor. As he bent down to retrieve it the door was wrenched open, revealing Harry standing in the semi-darkness, staring down at Louis with an eyebrow raised.

"I, uhm, I brought you your things back. You, uhm, you left them... I presumed you’d want the back," Louis stuttered, straightening up again.

"Thank you, Captain Tomlinson," Harry said rather loudly, as if there were people watching them. Louis knew for a fact that all of his men were currently on the island.

"Harry," Louis said quietly.

"We’re not talking about it," Harry started, but he was cut off.

"I was actually hoping to discuss some information with you if that’s okay," Louis said, best formal accent in place. _"Captain,"_ he added, a hint of sarcasm slipping through.

Harry nodded, waving him through the door. His cabin, Louis noted as he took a seat at the small desk, was much like his own. Simple decor, though it was clear this was once a wealthy man’s ship, remnants of old wealth still present. Harry sat himself across from Louis on his high-backed, ornate Captain’s chair.

"What do you wish to discuss," he said, still achingly formal.

"Something that Liam said. I’m sure you heard by now that Cowell hasn’t set foot there in six weeks. Four weeks behind your schedule."

"I was wondering about that," Harry said, getting up to pace the room, a nervous habit Louis could recall only too well.

"Is it possible that the schedule is wrong?" Louis asked, keeping his voice as light as possible.

"No," said Harry shortly, "I’m certain it’s correct."

"Then that leaves one option," Louis said, staring out the window at the darkening sea.

"He’s using an agent."

"Precisely," Louis replied, "but who?"

"Well," Harry scoffed, turning around to stare at Louis, "I think we know that."

Louis frowned, caught off guard at Harry’s intensity. "We do?"

"Yeah. Don’t you remember the man you were boring to death with your abysmal flirting?"

"Zayn," Louis exclaimed. "You think one of the most well know pirates is working with the most well know pirate hunters? Have you lost your mind?"

"It makes sense Louis. Think about it, no one’s heard about Zayn for weeks. Yet we find him, exactly where Cowell should’ve been, exactly at the right time."

"You’re serious?" Louis asked incredulously.

"Of course. In fact, I’d put money on it."

They locked eyes across the table.

"And how are we supposed to get proof of it if we left him there on that island."

Harry sighed, running a hand over his face. "I haven’t quite got there yet. But I’m working on it."

–

Stepping out of the boat onto the white sands at Nassau, Louis felt he could finally breathe again. After his chat with Harry there had been an awkward silence for the rest of the time it took to find anchor and he couldn't be happier to get off that ship.

The first stop for most was the tavern, but Louis headed straight for the brothel. He would wait until Max had finished work and go and see her. His thoughts were jumping loops round his head and he needed to talk to someone. Someone who wasn't directly involved.

Almost an hour later Max appeared. She took one look at his face and pulled him out of his char, leading him away and gently shutting the door to her own private room.

“You fucked him, didn't you?” she asked bluntly, pouring a cup of rum which Louis accepted gladly. He’d given up questioning how she knew these things a long time ago.

“I mean, technically he fucked me. But yes. We fucked. _I'm_ fucked, aren't I?”

Max huffed, leaning against the back of her chair. “It depends on how you look at it.”

“What other way is there,” Louis sighed, frustrated. “The man that I'm completely in love with had amazing sex with me and now we're refusing to talk about it. I mean, honestly, it's a fucking mess. I should never have agreed to help him, I'd be much better off for it.”

When he looked up from his drink Max was staring at him peculiarly, lips parted in surprise.

“What?” Louis asked irritably.

“You admitted that you are in love with him,” she replied softly, as though she was afraid of his reaction.

“I, I- yeah. I'm. Yeah. I love him.” His heart fluttered in his chest, but he pushed the thought away angrily. So what if he loved Harry, he clearly didn’t want him back. He wouldn’t even acknowledge him properly. There was no point wasting his time on such thoughts. Harry didn’t love him, end of story. He tried to ignore the gaping hole of sadness that though caused.

Max said nothing, reaching out consolingly to pat his arm.

Louis inhaled shakily. He went to take another drink but realised it was empty. He placed it down on the table, dropping it a second too quick, causing it to fall and roll, hitting the floor with a thunk.

Blinking rapidly, he stared at the spot where the little liquid left in his cup was staring to ooze out and onto the floor.

“I'm in love with him,” he whispered softly.

In that moment the world seemed to tilt on its axis.


	5. Chapter Four

A week later Louis was still reeling from the revelation in Max' room. He knew, obviously, somewhere deep within him had always loved Harry, and probably always would, but for it to hit him like that, after everything, well. Well, it scared him to say the least.

He and Harry had barely interacted past pleasantries and formal planning sessions with the crew present, or their quartermasters, or island inhabitants, or... anyone else. There had to be someone else there. Louis didn't trust himself to be left alone with Harry again. And, if he looked at the glaringly obvious signs, Harry clearly felt the same way.

Every time he saw her Max would shoot him these soft pitying glances and it was slowly driving him mad. It's not as if it was the end of the world. So, he was in love. What did it matter? They would find Zayn, get revenge on Cowell and then part ways as acquaintances, meeting in taverns every so often with a friendly nod, and a “not seen you around in a while, how’ve you been?” God he was so, so screwed.

So, when Harry flounced into his room one night, completely uninvited, and completely, notably, alone, Louis almost ran from the room in panic. He didn't, of course, but it was a close thing.

Harry was looking at him, glee clear in his eyes, mouth pulled into that infuriating smirk that said, clear as day, 'I know something you don't.'

“Well,” Louis said, refusing to break eye contact despite his heart pounding away in his chest. “What is it, Captain. Can't you see I'm very busy?”

He gestured to the pile of books and papers strewn all over the desk, and thanked God and anyone else that was listening that Liam had been in earlier stressing about some inconsequential detail of the ships rigging.

“I know where he is,” Harry said, voice low with excitement, “and I know what he's doing.”

Louis stared at him blankly. “Well, that just great then,” he said, sarcasm dripping from his tone, “I'm glad we cleared that up.”

“Zayn,” Harry said, waving his arms around as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “If my calculations are correct, which I'm sure they are I got Niall to double check, didn't tell him what it was about of course and, oh, right,” he said, picking up on Louis' 'get on with it' expression, “well he'll be back here in three days time, and he's working with Cowell, I'm sure of it Louis, there's no other explanation and you, you're not gonna like this, but you're going to be the one to find out why.”

It seemed Harry had said this all on one breath as he stood facing Louis, chest heaving and eyes lit with a fire Louis hadn't seen for a long time. It transported him straight back four years ago when Harry'd first told him he wanted to go after Cowell.

“I, wait, you want _me_ to find out what he's up to?” Louis said incredulously, mind running to catch up with what Harry was saying. “Are you forgetting what happened the last time I saw him? The drink, the fighting, the...” sex Louis' mind supplied unhelpfully.

If Harry picked up on what Louis wasn't saying he didn't display any outward signs of acknowledgement, though Louis was sure he saw something flash behind his eyes.

“I know that,” Harry said, slow this time, careful and measured. “That's why it needs to be you. He just thinks you're some drunk idiot who was hitting on him. There's no way he'll take you seriously. People are more likely to spill their secrets if they don't know you, because they can't see the consequences of it.”

Harry had the decency to look a little sheepish when he said “plus it's the only plan I have. And I don't think waiting around to see what might happen if we don't do anything is gonna cut it.”

And so that's how Louis found himself on a bar stool, playing drunk yet again to try and break past Zayn Malik's tough, if still morose, exterior. He really needed to pick better friends.

–

Zayn clearly recognised him, whether from the other night or (and Louis prayed it wasn’t) he'd remembered who Louis is. Either way it was clear he was suspicious, and it was making Louis tense in his seat, well aware of Harry's eyes boring a hole in his coat from across the tavern. At least this time he’s alone, no girls swanning all over him. It's probably purposeful, on Harry's part, trying not to draw attention to himself, but Louis can’t help thinking that it's a little to do with him, too.

Anyway, Louis thought, trying to draw himself back to the present, concentrate. Zayn's cup was almost empty, and Louis signalled the barkeep for another. The last thing he needed was for Zayn to get up and leave.

“So,” Louis started after about half an hour of waiting for Zayn to do anything other than stare into his cup. “You come here often?”

Louis expects a grunt, maybe even just a disgruntled stare. What happened next wasn't even in the wildest of potentials.

“Listen, mate, I don't know exactly what it is you want, but I have a pretty fine guess, so why don't you just ask me whatever it is and leave me the fuck alone.”

Gaping like a fish for an abnormal amount of time was probably not what Zayn was expecting either, and he stared as Louis tried to get a grip and formulate a response. He could swear Zayn looked amused.

“I,” Louis started, drawing himself upright, “I have no idea what you-”

“Oh please,” Zayn said, bored look reappearing, features schooling back into their sombre pull, “just do it already, would you? No? Okay. Let me guess, you and your friend over there want to know why I'm working with Cowell.”

Louis just stared at him for another minute, nodding his head eventually. He was sceptical, and seriously confused. Surely Zayn wasn’t about to just offer up the information for free, right?

Wrong, apparently, as Zayn continued on. “I wanted him to stop snooping around here. He put one of my friends ships under, so I decided to go after him myself. Turns out that wasn't the greatest move. He killed the whole crew, then gave me a choice, work with him, or die. I've been trying to figure out a way to take him down the whole way. Once he's gone, I'm going after the Navy.”

“Why are you tell-” Louis started to ask, but Zayn beat him to it again.

“Because you're Louis Tomlinson, and that over there is Harry Styles. And I know that you two didn't track me down as part of your weird flirting game. We've all heard the stories of what happened last time someone went after Cowell. My money’s on the fact that you're planning a second try. From the way Captain Styles has been staring all night I'm guessing you're kinda screwed without me. So, I'll make you a deal.”

“What kind of a deal,” Louis managed to interject, still reeling (and only a little, tiny bit in awe) from the way Zayn played him. He had him right in the palm of his hand from the very start, and Louis didn't think about it for a second. Despite the circumstances, Louis couldn’t help but think that this is one man he wants on his team when the time is right.

“A you scratch mine; I'll scratch yours kinda deal. I give you all the information you need, and when the time comes you fight alongside me against the rest of them.”

Louis looked across the room at Harry, watching as he took a drink from the tumbler in front of him. Could he really sign away his life to fight against society itself, just for some information that Harry wanted? Information that could potentially ruin them both. In that moment, Harry caught his eye.

His breath caught in his throat as they stared at each other. Harry had a look in his eye that resembled something between curiosity, concern and even a little fondness. And really, Louis thought as he turned back to Zayn, answer poised on his lips, it was never really a question at all.

-

Zayn agreed to their plan easily. He would conceal their whereabouts from Cowell while simultaneously leading him, straight into their trap. He and Harry would sail side by side, hopefully ensnaring Cowell between the two ships. 

Everything came together so fast that Louis could barely keep up. Suddenly, the ships were stocked, the armoury was loaded, and they were off in pursuit.

The striking parallels between this and the last time were digging into him at every turn, every time he caught Harry's eye, or traced over a map, or went over strategy with Liam. It's all so much that Louis didn’t know what to do with it.

The day of the battle dawned in the same light, with its eerie resemblance to the last time. It was calm, almost unusually so, the wind only a quiet rustle in the sails. Louis took a moment to breathe before he started preparations, and he could see Harry doing the same, only meters away, yet separated by an ocean.

Everything in him screamed to go over, to ask how he's feeling, to comfort him. But he knew he couldn’t. He shouldn't. Harry didn’t want that from him. He didn’t need that anymore. It made Louis' chest hurt, but he eventually managed to turn away.

He was immediately bombarded by Liam, whose stressing over insignificant details would usually drive Louis mad, but now came as somewhat of a comfort, if not a welcome distraction.

And so, the stage was set. The men were ready, they perhaps didn’t fully understand the importance of this fight, but they picked up enough to know that their Captain is wholly invested in it and it appeased them. The wind was picking up, pushing them forward slightly quicker than before, whistling through the sails cheerily, as though it were any other day. All they could do now was hope Zayn upheld his end of the bargain and brought Cowell into line with them.

There was silence, just for a moment, and then it happened.

“Sails.”

The cry came from above them and Louis held his breath, along with everyone else who knew the importance of this.

“It's him, Captain.”

Relief hit, followed almost instantly by dread. If only they'd had more time to prepare. If only he'd thought this through properly. If only he could have planned a little more, explained a little better. If only he'd been strong enough to talk Harry out of this. If only he'd been strong enough to tell him how he really feels.

Looking over at Harry his stomach clenched. Harry looked every inch the pirate Captain, hair slicked back into a ponytail, eyes scanning the horizon with one hand curled instinctively around the handle of his sword. It instilled some confidence in him, how put together Harry looked, and he smiled.

He drew himself to full height and nodded at Liam, who gave him a tight smile. It was now or never. “Prepare for battle,” Louis said, voice loud and steady, a complete contrast to how he felt. They've got this, Harry had said. Well, Louis thought. They had to. He couldn't stand the thought of what might happen if they didn't.

They came into range a mere few minutes later, or so it seemed. The black had been raised, cannons had been prepared, and the fighting began. Louis’ first order to fire came almost simultaneously with Harry’s, and Louis couldn’t help but smile. They had planned the timing during their pre-battle sessions, but he was still somewhat surprised they had pulled it off. 

The echoing of cannon fire echoed around them; the sides of the ship already being eaten into. Cowell’s men did seem very unprepared, they had clearly caught them off guard, and this calmed Louis somewhat. He was glad that for once, they had the upper hand, even if it didn’t last. Louis could barely tell whose cannons were who’s anymore, it all blurred into one. Men were shouting and running all over the deck, ducking the debris that was already being sprayed into the air.

Then all of a sudden they were boarding and the fighting began. Louis ran across with the rest of the men. Generally, the Captain would wait behind until the fighting had lulled, but there was no way in hell he was waiting behind on this fight. Harry’s men were boarding too, and Louis allowed himself to feel hopeful for a moment. They had almost double the manpower, plus the element of surprise. 

He could see harry boarding over all the commotion, and that hopeful, calm feeling dissipated instantly, being replaced by the overwhelming urge to keep Harry safe. He had to push that aside though. He had to find Cowell before Harry did. Running up the deck he tried to avoid getting pulled into any fights, but it was futile. 

He was bruised and bleeding in three places by the time he reached the helm, adrenaline pumping through his system. Suddenly, Louis spotted him, Cowell that is. He was just standing by the wheel, overseeing the fight, and if Louis could just get to him, just before Harry did. He couldn’t let him hurt Harry. He wouldn’t. 

He ran up the stairs, jumping them three at a time, drawing his cutlass with a flourish. He felt the moment Cowell recognised him, his serene smile dropping to make way for contempt. Louis’ mouth pulled into a feral smile, all teeth, eyes hardening. 

He had just started to make his way across the deck towards him, when he was caught by another sword, pulling him into a brutal fight. Distracted, he didn’t notice Cowell’s next move. He didn’t notice his lips pull into a smile, didn’t notice the gun being cocked. He didn’t even notice as the bullet made its way home.


	6. Chapter Five

There is always a moment, just before disaster hits, where everything becomes calm. For just a few seconds everything is suspended in time. The sounds of battle fall away, the firing of Cowell's gun seeming to freeze in motion.

Then the moment ends. 

Harry watched as the bullet hit home. His heart dropped into his stomach as he watched Louis fall, almost delicately, onto the deck. He suddenly felt sick, bile rising in his throat as he watched Cowell’s moth pull into a triumphant grin. The pain and hurt ripped through him at record speed, making way quickly for anger. White hot anger. He thrashed out, his own opponent falling to the ground. He turned back to look at Louis. Why wasn’t he getting up. Why wasn’t he fucking moving.

Harry ran towards him, narrowly escaping the knives and cutlasses thrashing through the air around him. He reached the deck, coming up behind them, and grabbed Cowell by the shoulder, spinning him round to face him.

He watched as Cowell’s face blanched, eyes widening in fear.

“You,” he growled, regaining his senses, “you’re a fucking coward. You and that fucking shit of a captain, you deserve this. You deserve to rot in hell, just like your father. You’ll pay for this.”

“Fuck you,” Harry snarled before ramming his cutlass into Cowell’s chest, revelling in the choked gasp he made as his sword hit home.

“Tomlinson’s dead you know,” Cowell gasped out, “he got what was coming to him. You will too Styles.”

Red blacked out Harry’s vision, wrenching out his cutlass and slamming it back in again and again and again until Cowell dropped to the floor, unmoving.

He heard a cough from behind him, and all at once his senses rushed back. Louis. _Louis._

He threw his sword down and turned, falling to his knees beside Louis and cradling his face in his hands, uncaring of the blood coating them.

“You killed him?” Louis whispered, voice high and rasping, “you really did it.”

“Yeah, I did,” Harry said calmly, holding Louis closer. “It’s over, Lou, I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay.” Harry hesitated, running his thumb over Louis’ cheek. “Louis, Louis I love you. I love you so much. I’m never going to let you go again I promise you my love.”

Louis smiled, a true smile. “I love you too,” he whispered, reaching up towards him, and with all his remaining strength pulled Harry down on top of him to crush their mouths together.

He tasted of blood and dirt, and Harry was pretty sure he was crying but the press of Louis’ mouth against his made up for it, his soft, plush lips moving against Harry’s in harmony, ever so softly.

Harry was told later that the fight went on for mere moments after Cowell went down, but to him it could have been hours as he lay beside Louis, amongst the blood and the sacrifice, kissing him tenderly and cradling him to his chest.

—

After being tended to by Doctor Harwood, Louis and Harry were left alone at last. As it turned out all he had needed was a small bandage on his arm, the bullet hadn't gone deep and was easily removed, the doctor informing him that he was likely to make a full recovery in no time.

Throughout the doctor's prodding all Louis had wanted was to be left alone with Harry, and yet now that he was here he didn't know what to do with himself. Should he kiss him? Give him a hug maybe? Or just stand there staring at him like a complete idiot like he was doing now? In the end, Harry saved him the trouble, walking over to the desk and wrapping his arms around Louis' middle, mindful of his injury as he laid his head gently on his shoulder.

Sighing into the embrace, Louis brought his good arm up to wrap around his back, pressing his face into the mass of curls around Harry's neck. Harry pulled his bead back to rest their foreheads together, and Louis was shocked to feel a tear drip onto his face, Harry trembling ever so slightly in his arms.

He was so quiet he almost didn’t hear him. And when he did he was so sure he’d heard wrong.

“Fuck me,” Harry had whispered into his shoulder. “Please.”

Louis pulled out of the hug to look up at him, questioning him with his eyes. In answer, Harry leaned in and pressed their lips together ever so softly, sucking Louis' lower lip into his mouth and biting on it lightly.

“Please,” he whispered again, and that was all it took for Louis to turn him around, placing him gently of the desk so that he was facing Louis with his legs wrapped around him.

He kissed him again, plush lips becoming pliant under his tongue as he began to undo the buttons on Harry's shirt.

Harry's hands came up to help him, trembling with the effort. When he was done Louis caught them for a moment, feeling the rough callouses and cuts lining Harry's hands and cradling them softly against his heart.

Harry looked up through his lashes, eyes sparkling in the soft light of the candle. “Louis,” he murmured, chasing his lips once more. Louis obliged, and they kissed softly again, somehow managing to dispose of their clothing all the while.

Eventually, Louis pulled away, pushing lightly at Harry's shoulder for him to lay down on the desk. Harry moved, attempting to flip over but Louis stopped him with his hands.

“Wanna see you,” he said in response to Harry's curious sound.

Grabbing the oil from his drawer, Louis slicked up his fingers. Harry shifted, fidgeting.

“Relax, love,” Louis said, pouring a little of the left over oil onto Harry hole, which twitched in response. “I won't hurt you. Would never hurt you.”

With one finger he carefully pressed against Harry's hole, holding his breath. As he pressed slowly inside Harry whimpered, hand reaching out for Louis'. He interlaced their fingers, and Louis squeezed softly, Harry's lips pulling into a tiny smile.

“Alright?” Louis asked, Harry nodding furiously. “Ready for another?”

“Yeah, Lou. S'good,” he moaned, voice cracking. Louis scissored his fingers slowly, stretching them wide. Harry keened, shifting around on the desk.

Sliding in a third finger alongside the others he began pumping them, slowly, efficiently, until Harry was whining beneath him and begging him to get on with it. Pulling them out, he slicked up his cock with more oil, lining up with Harry's entrance. “Ready love?” he asked, rubbing circles into his skin with his free hand.

“Please” Harry whimpered, and Louis pressed forwards, sliding into the perfect tight heat of his body.

He saw Harry's eyes were filled with tears reflecting in the moonlight, like pearls as they dripped down his cheeks.

“Alright?” he asked, slowing down.

“Yes,” Harry whimpered, hand coming to clasp Louis', “I just, I thought you were dead Lou, and I, I-”

“Shh baby, it's okay. I'm here, love, I've got you. You want to stop?”

“No,” he whined, squirming around, “No don't stop Louis please.”

"Okay baby," Louis murmured, "okay."

Louis pressed forwards again, cock sliding back into Harry's pulsing tight heat.

“Fuck” he moaned, “fuck you’re so tight H.”

Harry whimpered in response, wrapping a hand round his own cock and pulling in time with Louis’ thrusts.

"Lou," he moaned, eyes fluttering shut, squinted in pleasure. "Oh god, Louis. There, please. Please don’t stop, please. Fuck."

Louis shifted, hands coming to grip Harry’s hips and using them for leverage as he sped up his thrusts, cock nudging against his prostate with each sharp snap of his hips.

Their moans sped up in pace, synchronising in the relative quiet of the cabin. The wet slide of Louis’ cock added to the noise, faltering slightly as he sped up further.

“Harry,” he groaned, voice breaking. “Harry I’m gonna come. Oh, oh fuck H, fuck."

Burying himself inside Harry, pressing in as far as he could, he came hard. When he came to, Harry was writhing and squirming on the desk, chasing his own release.

He pulled out quickly, ignoring Harry’s noise of protest as he dropped to his knees, coming to rest with his face nestled between his cheeks.

The first lathe of his tongue along Harry’s hole caused him to jump, body convulsing above him.

Undeterred, Louis dived back in, licking and sucking softly at the rim. He heard, rather than saw Harry coming apart, moans dripping from his lips continuously.

As he finally pressed his tongue inside, licking out his own come he felt Harry’s hole spasming around him, Harry wailing as he came.

—

Later, much later, after they had cleaned up and gone to sleep without so much as uttering a single word to each other, Louis awoke.

Moonlight filtered through the cabin, illuminating a sliver of Harry's face, his eyes staring straight back at Louis'.

“Lou,” he whispered when he saw that Louis was awake, “Lou, I...”

“Shh,” Louis whispered back, stepping out of his hammock and onto the rough wood of the ship.

“Come with me” he said, holding Harry's gaze he crossed the cabin to the door, beckoning him with one hand.

Harry followed, coming to stand beside him as he opened the door, night air spilling into the room and coaxing them out onto the deck. Together, minds seemingly linked as one, they crossed over to stand beneath the rigging.

“You coming?” Louis asked, night air falling quiet and unusually still. Without looking at Harry, scared to break this moment, Louis began to climb.

Harry sat silently beside him, both of them staring up into the sky. Tentatively, ever so slowly Louis reached his arm around him, hand resting on his waist. Harry stiffened yet allowed himself to be pulled closer, and after a moment’s hesitation rested his head on Louis’ shoulder.

Louis continued to stare at the sky, throat tight and stomach fizzing with nerves. Despite this he could feel Harry relaxing against him, shifting closer. “Remember when we used to do this?” he asked quietly, unwilling to disturb the atmosphere that settled over him.

“Yeah,” Harry murmured, his voice soft and raspy. “Made me feel safe. Like we were the only ones on the entire ocean. Like we could’ve done anything.”

Louis looked down to nudge at Harry’s head with his nose. “We could have.”

— —

_Light filtered softly in through the windows of the cabin, illuminating the scene within. Louis watched Harry struggle against the rope that was bound around his wrists, the two men on either side restraining him as he thrashed around in the chair. Tear tracks stained his cheeks, creating a clear path through the blood and dirt smudged on his face. He looked up at Louis, eyes, once so full of light and happiness now brimming with hurt, confusion and conveying a silent plea._

_Louis' own eyes were filled with tears, his throat burning as he refused to let them fall. “Harry I’m sorry. I can't let you go back out there.”_

_He watched as Harry slowly came to the realisation, watched as the last remnants of hope, of trust, left him, watched as his world came crashing down at his feet. He heaved a sob, thrashing against the restraints. Louis watched on in silence, nails digging into his palms to stop the tears from falling. He did this. He caused Harry to look this way. This was his fault._

_Eventually, Harry stopped moving, going limp. “Why?” he whispered, broken._

_“I can't let you fight them. I won't let you. They took everything. I will not let them take you.” Louis stared resolutely at the desk in front of him, he would not look up at Harry now. He couldn't._

_“Louis, let me go. Please. We can do this, I know we can do this. I believe in it Louis, I believe in us. Don't you?” His voice broke off into sobs again, the sound piercing Louis' chest._

_“I'm sorry Harry.” he said, voice devoid of emotion. Harry's cries grew louder, yet still Louis did not look up. “Take him away,” he said to the men, turning to face the widow. Harry screamed as he was dragged out onto the deck, the door clanging shut behind him._

_Louis' didn't break then, he didn't break as he watched Harry's silhouette in the water desperately try and follow the ship before giving up and heading for the small strip of sand. He didn't break when Liam came in to tell him that The Scylla had taken the bait and was following in pursuit. He broke with the stars. He wept, and he screamed, and he shattered into a million pieces, surrounded by ocean, alone under the sky._

— —

Harry looked up at him, eyes shining with tears, one escaping and running down his face. “You ruined me. I hated you for so long that I forgot what it felt like.”

Louis looked back at the sky, eyes burning. “What what felt like?”

“Loving you.”

Louis’ eyes slipped closed, tears beginning to fall. “I never meant for it to happen” he whispered. “I just needed you to be safe. I forgot... I forgot that you didn't need protecting anymore.”

Two warm hands cupped his face, pulling it away from the sky. His eyes flickered open, taking in Harry’s tear streaked face, wide eyes reflecting the stars.

“If you hadn't done it,” Harry whispered, pulling him in closer, “then we would not be here. And I would never have had the courage to have done this.”

And at last, their lips connected. Their eyes remained open despite the blurring of their tears and their closeness, noses pressed together as they kissed. Louis’ hand reached up to rest in Harry’s hair, the other on his cheek, wiping at the tears now freely falling there.

In that moment, Louis finally understood. It wasn't the stars that broke him. Harry was the stars themselves. He contained all of their light, their beauty, their ancient knowledge. As his eyes slipped shut, he realised now that no matter what happened next, Harry would always be there to guide him home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so so much for reading this, comments and kudos literally make my day so feel free to leave 'em. Come chat on tumblr at [piinkitulips](https://piinktulips.tumblr.com/), you're welcome to come talk to me about the fic, and if you want you can reblog [this](https://piinktulips.tumblr.com/post/185085882938/a-world-full-of-shadows-when-harry-styles-crashes) post for the fic - . Hope you enjoyed it and have a lovely day x


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